


Tale as old as time

by badbloodfoxes



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Beauty and the Beast AU, F/F, some violence toward the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 00:58:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10451436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badbloodfoxes/pseuds/badbloodfoxes
Summary: For who could ever learn to love a beast?or;the beauty and the beast au





	

**Author's Note:**

> some spoilers for the new beauty and the beast movie ahead

Once upon a time in a faraway land, a young princess lived in a beautiful castle. Although she had everything her heart desired, the princess was spoiled, selfish, and unkind. She taxed the village to fill her castle with the most beautiful objects, and her parties with the most beautiful people.

Then one night an unexpected visitor arrived at the castle seeking shelter from the bitter storm. As a gift she offered the princess a single rose. Repulsed by her haggard appearance the princess turned the old woman away. But she warned the princess not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within.

When the princess dismissed her again, the old woman’s outward appearance melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress. The princess begged for forgiveness, but it was too late, for the enchantress had seen there was no love in her heart. As punishment, she transformed the princess into a hideous beast and placed a powerful spell on the castle and all who lived there.

As days bled into years the princess and her servants were forgotten by the world, for the enchantress had erased all memory of them from the minds of the people they loved. The rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose. If the princess could learn to love another and earn their love in return by the time the last petal fell, the spell would be broken. If not, she would be doomed to remain a beast for all time. As the years passed the princess fell into despair and lost all hope.

For who could ever learn to love a _beast_?

* * *

 

Betty absolutely adored books. She loved the adventures, the places she’d travel to, an escape from reality. This made her a bit of an outcast from the rest of the people in her small village. Typically, she ignored the words of her small minded neighbors, but the whispers were particularly loud as she made her way to the library.

“Ah! If it isn’t the only book worm in town!” Monsieur Keller greeted her as she entered the town’s entirely too small library. There was a lone desk scattered with books, barely a dozen of them. “Where did you run off to this week?”

“Two cities in northern Italy,” Betty sighed, returning the book to its place on the desk, “I didn’t want to come back. Have you gotten anything new?”

“I’m afraid not,” the librarian shook his head, “but you’re more than welcome to read any of the others again.”

“Thank you,” Betty picked up her favorite book, tattered and well loved, before taking her leave. “Your library makes our small corner of the world feel big.”

“Bon voyage!”

She started reading it again as soon as she stepped foot outside of the library. Betty’s so used to their small little town, walked this path for years, she doesn’t particularly need to look where she’s going, instead preferring to focus on the story in front of her.

Her focus was broken by a hand on her arm, halting her in her place.

“Betty!” She looked up to see Chuck standing in front of her, a bouquet of flowers in his hand and a hint of a smile on his face. “That’s a lovely book you have there.”

“You’ve _read_ it?”

“Well,” Chuck stuttered, “not that one, but you know. Books and things.”

Chuck pushed the bouquet of flowers in her direction, though she made no move to take them.

“For your table. Shall I join you for dinner this evening.”

"Sorry,” Betty clutched her book tighter to her chest and taking a step away from Chuck and his flowers. “Not this evening.”  

“Busy?” Chuck was persistent as always.

“No,” Betty drew out the word, turning away and continuing the short trek home until she came to the garden in front of the little cottage she shared with her sister Polly.

“Can I give you some advice about the villagers, Betty?” She heard Chuck say, rolling her eyes as she avoided his gaze. “They’re never going to be comfortable with the change you’re trying to bring?”

She turned to look at him, seeing him step on the vegetables in their garden as he made his way to her.

“Girls reading is somehow too forward for them?”

“Well, yes.” Chuck stared at her as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s not right for a woman to read. She starts getting ideas, thinking, taking her focus off where it should be.”

“And where is that?”

"Well, on her future children of course!” Chuck smiled and walked closer to her. Betty stepped backward up the stairs to her door, Chuck following close behind. “In your case, _our_ children.”

Betty gaped at him, pulling her dress out of his grasp and backed up to feel the sturdy wood of her door pressed against her back. “I’m far too young to have children, Chuck. And besides we could never _really_ make each other happy.”

“One day you’ll change your mind,” he winked, moving to lean over her.

“I’m sorry, Chuck, but I will never marry you,” Betty quickly slipped inside door, holding it closed even as Chuck shook it. When the shaking finally stopped, the sound of loud footsteps disappearing as he walked away, Betty finally let go of the door with a sigh.

“Oh Betty!” She turned to the sight of her sister sitting at an easel, paint on her face and hands. “You’re home! Did they have anything new at the library?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Betty walked to her sister’s side, setting her book down on the nearby table. She looked at the easel. It hadn’t been filled with much color yet, in perhaps a day or two it would be a beautiful work of art. She watched her sister make a few brush strokes.

“Polly? Do you think I’m odd?”

Polly stopped working and turned around to look at her. “My sister? Odd?” She shook her head in disbelief. “Where would you get an idea like that?”

“People talk,” Betty shrugged.

“People say a great many things, but not all of them are wise. Just look at Chuck.”

Betty scoffed and rolled her eyes, handing her sister a rag to wipe her face.

“You remember I’m going to the next town to sell my art tomorrow?”

“How could I forget?” Betty smiled as Polly missed a bit of blue paint on her face. She reached for the cloth and dabbed the color from her sister’s cheek. “It’s the same festival you go to every year.”

“And every year I bring you back a gift. So, what would you like this year?”

“A rose.”

“But you ask for that _every_ year!”

“And every year you bring it.”

Polly sighed, a smile playing on her lips. “Then I suppose I’ll bring you another.”

Betty helped Polly pack up her utensils onto the wagon, giving Philippe's neck a few pats and leaning to whisper in his ear.

“You take good care of her.”

The horse whinnied as if he understood her, Betty liked to think he did.

“Oh, look at the time!” Polly ran to where Betty stood, pulling her into a hug. “I need to be off if I’m going to make it for the festival tomorrow!”

Betty wrapped her arms tightly around her sister.

“Be safe.”

“I always am.”

She helped her sister into her seat at the front of the wagon, and with a flick of Polly’s wrists she and Philippe were off. Once Polly was far enough in the distance, Betty barely making out her figure, she retreated inside. The little cottage seemed darker, as if Polly had taken the colors with her.

It wasn’t that she minded being alone. When she was younger she relished when Polly and their father went to the festival. It meant she had time to read alone, to engross herself in her stories. With their father gone, and Betty having to look at the paintings of both him and mother made her wish they were here with her, knowing that wish would never come true gave her great sadness.

She retreated to her room, where the eyes of her mother and father could not follow her, for she had no paintings of them there, only a music box her father made when she was younger. It was a model of the small windmill they’d occupied when they lived in Paris. She was far too young to remember, but Polly did, and would often tell her happier stories from that time.

Betty read until the sun set, darkness taking over, before setting the book down on the table by her bed. No matter how much she read the story, nothing about it would change. Nothing about their small town would change, the people would always remain close-minded, while she and Polly may live alone for the rest of their days.

That would be alright, Betty thought, so long as they still had each other.

* * *

 

Betty woke the next morning and tended to the garden, paying special attention to Polly’s favorite vegetables. She did the laundry and when all the chores were done she read on the steps, awaiting Polly’s return.

It never came.

She waited on the steps for hours, watching as the sun began to make its descent in the sky, but still she never saw Polly. It wasn’t until later, when the sun had almost completely set over the hills that she heard the sound of a horse.

Not just any horse. Philippe.

He ran to his water trough taking drinks, practically inhaling the water, still shaking as though he’d been startled by something. She looked around, but he wasn’t attached to the wagon, and Polly was nowhere to be seen.

“Philippe!” She yelled, running to his side and taking his face in her hands. “Where’s Polly? Where is she boy?” She climbed on his back and flicked the reins. “Take me to her.”

It was a long journey, on a path she’d never seen and… snow. It was unusual to see snow in June, but she thought little of it. If this was where Polly was no amount of oddly timed winter could stop her. It wasn’t until she came to the gates of a castle that she began to fear not only for Polly’s safety, but also for hers.

The grounds of the castle seemed like a maze, a curved pathway winding its way up to the castle, the surrounding grounds covered in snow. There were statues of strange creatures, terrifying eyes that seemed to follow her as she rode past.

She rode Philippe as far into the castle grounds as she could, until she came to a set of stairs that led to large wooden doors. The outside of the castle was dark, and looking up she could see gargoyles and other cruel looking creatures taking protection over the castle. It seemed to Betty that they were all watching her, as if she were their prey. She picked up a stick outside the doors and knocked. One door creaked open for her.

Betty looked around the door, but sees no one who could have opened it.

“Hello?” She held the stick tighter in her hand, “I’ve come for my sister!”

“Look, Cogsworth!” A voice sounded. “It’s a beautiful girl!”

“I know it’s a girl!” She heard, but this voice is different, deeper. “I lost my hands, not my eyes.”

“Is someone here!” She turned around, but only finds a table where a candelabra and clock sit.

The sound of coughing from further into the castle steps drew her attention. They sounded like Polly. It was Polly. She grabbed the candelabra and made her way up the stairs, unaware of the worried glance the clock gave her.

Betty made her way to a dungeon of gray stone hallways and dark iron bars, and doesn’t stop until she sees two pale hands wrapped around some of the bars.

“Polly!” she called, setting the candelabra on a nearby ledge and reached down to take her sister’s hands.

“Betty?” Polly looked up at her, and Betty can see the fear in her eyes. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

"Polly, your hands are like ice,” she rubbed Polly’s hands for a moment while she looked at the iron bars, trying to find the mechanism to release her sister.

“Betty, listen to me. You must leave this place,” Polly tugged on her hands and Betty turned her gaze back to her sister. “This castle is _alive_.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have to go. _Now_. Before it finds you!”

“Before what finds me?”

Polly’s answer was silenced by a deafening roar that echoes through the hallways of the dungeon. Betty picked her stick off the ground and moves to stand in front of her sister, searching the halls to find a shadowed figure on another ledge.

“Who are you?” she called.

“Who are _you_?” An unnatural voice called back to her.

“I’ve come for my sister!”

The figure roared again and jumps to the same ledge where Betty stands, and she takes a step back. The person was still shrouded in shadow, and she has no idea what they look like.

“Your sister,” the voice said, “is a thief.”

“Liar!” She knows her sister. Her sister has never done such a thing, nor would she.

“She stole a rose.”

“I asked for the rose,” Betty turned as she heard Polly cough again, wanting to reach out and comfort her sister, but she turned back to the hidden figure. “Punish me instead!”

“Betty no!” Polly called to her. “It’s a life sentence!”

“A life sentence for a rose?”

“I received eternal damnation for one. _She_ is just being locked up.” Another growl sounded through the dungeon

“Come into the light,” Betty said, squinting her eyes to try and get a better look at Polly’s captor.

When the figure did not move she took the candelabra from its place and walked over, looking into the face of a _beast._ Betty jumped back scared.

The creature stood at a taller height than Betty, wearing a dark, ragged cloak that covered most of its form. She could see its hands, enormous things with claws. Its feet were doglike. Fangs poked from beneath its top lip and its brown eyes harsh and cold like the winter surrounding the castle.

She gasped, taking another step back, and returning the candelabra to its ledge.

“Do you still wish to take your sister’s place?” The monster questioned.

“Betty,” she turned back to her sister, who had tears in her eyes. “You have to leave me here. You have to live your life.”

“But what about you?”

“I’ll be alright,” Polly reached her hand up to Betty’s cheek. “But you have to forget about me.”

“Forget about you?” She sniffled and held tighter to Polly’s hands. “Everything I am is _because_ of you.”

Polly smiled at that. “Then go. Be more than I ever could.”

Betty nodded and stood, turning to face the creature.

“I need a moment alone with her,” it frowned and turned to walk away. “Are you so cold hearted you won’t even let two sisters say goodbye?”

The creature rapidly turned to face her, walking closer to her until Betty was sure they were not a foot apart. It reached up to a lever and pulled it down and the door to Polly’s cell opened.

“When this door closes,” the creature warned her, “it will not open again.”

Betty nodded, running to Polly and wrapping her arms around her.

“I’m so sorry, Betty. I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Betty turned them around so Polly’s back was to the doorway. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I’ll escape, I promise,” she whispered into Polly’s ear, hopefully quiet enough that the beast couldn’t hear them.

“Wha-”

Betty pushed her sister out of the cell, so harshly that Polly fell to the ground, and she pulled the cell door closed.

“Betty!” her sister called. Betty looked up, but instead of seeing Polly, the creature stood in front of her, looking down on her confused.

“You took her place?” It said softly, as if it didn’t understand.

“She’s my sister.”

“Your sister is a fool,” the creature growled, “and so are you.”

The beast walked away from the cell door. It took Polly’s arm and began to drag her down the winding staircase of the dungeon.

“Don’t hurt her!” Betty called after it, but received no answer from the creature.

“Betty!” Polly called. “I’ll come back for you! I’ll find a way to set you free! I promise!”

Betty watched until her sister and the creature were out of her view. She looked to the ceiling of the dungeon, finally letting the tears that had been forming in her eyes fall down her cheeks. She thought she’d lost Polly when Philippe came home without her. Now she truly had lost her sister, damned to this cell forever.

She sank to the floor of her dungeon, and wept.

* * *

 

Betty had no idea how much time had passed, but was startled by a noise and looked to find the door of her cell swing open.

“Bonjour mademoiselle! I am here to escort you to your room!”

She picked up her stick that she’d left outside of her cell, looking around for another person.

“Who’s-” she gasped at the sight of the candelabra, now moving and with legs, hanging from the ledge she’d left it on.

“Hello- oh!” It yelled as it fell to the ground.

She ran over and brought the stick down on what looked like its head.

“You are very strong,” the candelabra said as it said back up, “a very charming quality in a woman!”

“You can talk!”

“Well _of course_ he can talk,” that same deep voice from earlier sounded from behind her. She turned, and there walked the clock from the table. “It’s all he ever does.”

“Ah but we have not introduced ourselves, Cogsworth! Our manners!” The candelabra bowed. “I am Lumière! And this is Cogsworth.” The clock simply nodded at her. “Now, are you ready to see your room?”

“My room?” Betty questioned, looking back at the dungeon. “But I thought-”

“Oh you are referring to,” Lumière put on his deepest voice, “’Once this door closes it will never open again’? The master says the funniest things sometimes, doesn’t she?”

“ _She_?” Betty’s brows furrowed. “That _thing_ is a she?”

Lumière flinched. “Yes. It is difficult to tell with all the fur, but our master is as beautiful a woman as they come, mademoiselle.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Betty scoffed and shook her head. “And I’m talking to a _candle_. I should believe just about anything at this point.”

“Candelabra, mademoiselle,” Lumière crossed his arms, “there is quite the difference. Now are you ready?”

“I guess so.”

“Excellent!” Betty leaned down to pick up Lumière to give herself more light.

“Is this alright?”

“Most certainly, mademoiselle! I am glad to light the way!”

They walked until they came to an outside bridge leading to doors at the top of a tower.

“The castle is your home now, so you are free to explore it as you like!” Lumière said with a smile.

“Except the West Wing.” Cogsworth sounded from in front of her, and Lumière turned in her grasp to look at him. “Oh!” Cogsworth covered his mouth, or tried to, his arms were a bit too short to reach.

“What’s in the West Wing?” She asked.

“Nothing!” Lumière turned back to her. “Absolutely nothing. Storage space. As a matter of fact, we don’t have a West Wing! Isn’t that right, Cogsworth!”

“Yes!” the clock sounded. “No West Wing here.”

They continued on the bridge before Cogsworth spoke again.

“Your room, here, will be in the East Wing.”

“Or as I like to call it, the _only_ wing.”

Betty entered the room and her jaw dropped. A chandelier hung from the ceiling with what are no doubt crystals hanging from each of its arms. The room itself is bigger than her entire cottage back at the village.

“It is simple, modest, but the master insisted you have the best room in the castle!”

“It’s incredible.”

“Dinner,” Cogsworth said, “will be at six o’clock this evening.”

“And you are more than welcome to attend, mademoiselle! We have the best dinner in all of France!”

“And _we_ ,” Cogsworth grabbed onto Lumière, “shall be downstairs making preparations.”

Cogsworth dragged Lumière out of the room before she could say anything to them, before she could thank them. She somehow doubted the beast had requested this accommodation for her. Still, she was grateful.

She walked to the window overlooking the castle grounds. It was beautiful. The way the sun reflected off the snow, almost like a million little crystals glittering, almost as pretty as the winter back home. Betty sighed trying to angle herself differently in the window, looking for the village and Polly in the distance, but to no avail.

Betty walked back to the bed and sat, the cloth finer and softer than anything she’d felt in her entire life. Still, all the incredible things about the room, the wonder she felt at seeing it all, didn’t overpower how much she missed her sister.

As she wondered if she’d ever get to see her sister again, more tears filled her eyes.

* * *

 

Chuck sat in front of the fire in the tavern beneath one of many antler chandeliers, twirling the knife in his hand. How could this be? She’d rejected him. Practically humiliated him, and why? He was charming. He was handsome. He could certainly provide. Surely there could be _nothing_ wrong with him. It had to be her.

“It disturbs me to see you this way, Chuck,” he heard Reggie’s voice behind him, “you look so down in the dumps.”

“I don’t understand,” Chuck sighed, throwing the knife into the heart of the deer painted on the wall. “Why doesn’t Belle desire me? She’s the most beautiful girl in the village. I’m the most handsome man in the village. We’re practically perfect for each other.”

“You know there are other girls?”

“Other girls are not Betty, Reggie.”

“Well, yes but-”

“Help!”

They turned, seeing a very pale Polly rush down the stairs of the tavern. Betty is nowhere insight.

"It’s got Betty! It’s got Betty locked in a dungeon!”

“Whoa,” Reggie stood in front of Polly, placing his hands on her shoulders to steady her. “Slow down. Who’s got Betty locked in a dungeon?”

“A beast! It’s a horrible, monstrous beast!”

The townspeople at the tavern shared a glance, then burst into laughter. Perhaps it was the alcohol in their system, but it seemed more likely to Chuck that they laughed at how completely and utterly mad the claim sounded.

“Is it big?” One of the townspeople asked.

“Huge!” Polly answered.

"Is it ugly?”

“Hideously ugly!”

“I’ll bet it likes blondes too!” The tavern lit up with laughter yet again, but the fear in Polly’s eyes got Chuck to thinking, and then she turned her gaze on him.

“It’s true! You believe me, don’t you Chuck.”

And that’s when he got an idea.         

“Of course I do!” Chuck stood, slowly making his way over to Polly. “Everyone, stop making fun of this woman this instant.”

“Then you’ll help me?”

“Of course,” Chuck smiled, “if anyone from this village is in danger it’s my duty to help them.”

“Thank you! Thank you, Chuck!”

“Reggie,” he turned to his friend, “grab my things will you, old friend.” He turned back to Polly.

“So then, lead us to the beast.”

* * *

 

Betty jolted to the sound of banging on her door, it’s as if someone is trying to bring it down.

“You will join me for dinner!” The creature’s deep voice sounded from the other side. “That’s not a request.”

She’s dumbfounded. But she heard other voices from outside her room.

“Uh, master,” she recognized Lumière’s voice, “perhaps a gentler approach would be more suitable.”

“And don’t forget to be charming,” an older, female voice she doesn’t recognize.

She heard more knocks on her door, but these were significantly gentler than the first, as if a normal human being were knocking at her door. She knows it isn’t.

"Will you join me for dinner.” A beat. “Please?”

“You imprison me here, take my sister away, and now you want me to have dinner with you?”

How could something be so cruel?  

“I would rather starve than have dinner with you!”

“Uh oh,” she doesn’t recognize this female voice, but it sound significantly younger than the other. “She’s losing it.”

“Fine!” The creature roars. “Then go ahead and starve!” Betty heard the creature’s heavy footsteps become farther and farther away before its voice sounded again. “If she doesn’t eat with me, then she doesn’t eat at _all_.”

Her heart sank. Was she really going to starve in here? Was this room to be just a pretty dungeon cell for her to sit in and rot until the end of her days? Was the golden embroidery in the walls meant to look like the bars of her cell?

She heard more knocks at her door, these far more gentle than any the beast made, but she had to be certain it wasn’t _her_. Betty supposes she should at least be thinking about the beast in its, her, proper gender.

            “I said no!”

“Don’t worry dear,” the older female voice sounded again, “It’s Mrs. Potts.”

The door opened, and a table tray rolled through with a teapot and teacup resting on the tray. The china was white with splashes of lavender and gold, but most noticeable about the dishes were the eyes and mouth.

“I thought you might like a nice cup of tea.” Mrs. Potts leaned herself over to pour tea into the little teacup, who bounced down from the tray and onto the floor in front of her. “Chip!” Mrs. Potts yells from the tray. “Be careful.”

Betty lifted the teacup from the ground.

“Pleased to meet you,” he said, bouncing a bit on his little plate.

Betty, awkwardly, took a sip of tea and returns him to the tray.

“That was a very brave thing you did, my dear.”

A noise sounded from her left and Betty jumped as the wardrobe in her room opens, and the curtains inside seem to form a mouth while the carvings above form eyes.

“Yes,” a low female voice spoke from the wardrobe, whom she would later learn to know as Madame de Garderobe, “we all think so.”

“I’ve lost my sister. My freedom. Everything.”

“Cheer up child,” Betty’s comforted by Mrs. Potts’ voice. “Things will turn out alright in the end. You’ll see.”

Betty wondered how that’s possible. How will everything be alright when she’s spending the rest of her days locked in a castle with a monster? What about Polly? Polly’s never been in their little cottage on her own. Polly was always the one taking treks to the next town to sell her art, she’d never been the one left alone.

“Now,” Mrs. Potts’ voice drew Betty from her thoughts, “how would you like to come down for dinner?”

"Dinner?” Betty questioned. “But I thought?”

“Oh pish posh. I’m not about to let you go hungry, dear. Now come along.”

Betty followed Mrs. Potts through the castle. Even the walls inside the castle were dark, each room painted a different dark color that only made Betty want to flee even more. The kitchen, on the other hand, seemed to be the only bright part of the castle. The dishes themselves were jumping into a soap filled sink to clean themselves, cupboard doors were opening and closing as dishes made their way inside.

“Mademoiselle!” Betty looked over to a counter to find Lumière, “You have emerged! What can we do for you?”

“I am feeling a bit hungry.”

“Well then,” he seemed to brighten at that. “Be our guest, my dear! I’m afraid most of dinner has been put away, but there are desserts! Pudding! Perhaps tea to go with them too!”

“Thank you,” Betty reached for some pudding, but her shoulders dropped. “I don’t understand why you’re all being so kind to me.”

“It’s been far too long since we’ve had a soul to wait upon, mademoiselle,” Lumière answered, “we help the master of course, but she stays alone in her room for much of the day.”

“Her room in the West Wing?” Betty looked in that direction. “I wonder what she’s hiding up there.”

“Hiding?” Lumière laughed, although to Betty he seemed nervous. “The master is hiding nothing.”

“Then the West Wing wouldn’t be forbidden.” Betty countered, and Lumière had no response for her then.

“All right, that’s enough out of you,” came Mrs. Potts’ voice from behind her, and Betty ducked her head like a scolded child. She put her pudding back on the table, finding herself not so hungry for food as much as information. “Off to bed with you. Come on, then.”

“Sleep well, mademoiselle!” Lumière’s voice sounded behind her. “It is always a pleasure to serve!”

She walked beside Mrs. Potts until they come to the grand staircase.

“Straight to bed with you,” as if Mrs. Potts could read her thoughts, and Betty made her way up the proper staircase toward the East Wing. Until Mrs. Potts was out of sight, then she dashed toward the opposite staircase and snuck behind the door into the west wing.

It wasn’t what she expected.

Betty found a crumbling castle inside. In some rooms it was as simple as paint cracking on the walls, but as she walked further down the halls she saw chunks missing from the floors and enormous cracks in the walls. Polly described the castle as _alive_ before. Betty thinks a better term would be _dying_.

She came to a large set of doors, larger than even the beast herself. They’re dark brown wood with golden carvings on them, and as she pushed one open she knew this must have been the creature’s room.

There was a large bed in the corner, a red blanket draped over white sheets. The frame of the bed is miraculous, more dark wood with gold carvings. Chandeliers seem to float from the ceiling, one of which hangs low to the ground. There’s another door on the side of the room, significantly smaller than the entry doors. She considered opening it, but something else caught her attention.

A portrait hung on the left wall of a family. A child sat between two of her parents, a familiar look about them. The girl in the middle has wavy raven hair and beautiful brown eyes, brown eyes that seem familiar. She couldn’t make out much of the parents, the canvas torn by what looked like claws, most likely from the creature herself.

Betty looked up past the creature’s bed. A smaller, circular room sits ahead with a table. There was a rose in a jar sitting on the table, but something was odd about the rose. It glowed. As if it called to her, Betty walked over with her focus solely on the rose.

As she got closer she saw wilted petals on the table surrounding the floating rose. One of the petals looked almost ready to fall. She pressed her fingers gently to the glass, as not to disturb the rose. She wanted to touch it, wanted to pick up the glass and hold it in her hand.

But a loud thud in front of her made her stop. And she was face to face with the beast.

“What are you doing here?” The creature yelled. “What have you done to it?”

Betty backed away from the table as the beast moved to inspect the rose, running one claw along the glass.

“Nothing!” Betty swallowed. “I did nothing.”

The creature looked at her, its brown eyes narrowed and fangs seemed more prominent to Betty than they had before.            

“You could have damned us all!” The beast roared. “Get out of here! Go! _Go!_ ”

Betty ran.

She ran from the beast’s room, from the West Wing, from the castle entirely. She pulled her cloak tight onto her shoulders and didn’t spare a look backwards as she climbed onto Philippe's back and gave his sides a kick.

Betty and Philippe barely made it through the outer gates of the castle ground when she heard the howling. She looked on either side of Philippe, and saw white wolves rushing through the woods after them. She did the only thing she can.

She kept running.

“Come on, Philippe!” She flicked his reins and gave his sides a good squeeze. She knew he was running as fast as he could but the wolves were catching up to them.

Betty felt Philippe take a lurch to the left, then straightened himself again. She looked down at the ground and saw ice. Philippe’s hooves were slipping as he still tried to carry her across the frozen lake, but he wasn’t quick enough. The wolves had a much easier time on the ice.

One of the wolves snapped at Philippe’s back leg, earning it a kick to the face.

“Good boy, Philippe!”

Another wolf jumped onto Philippe's back. Betty scrambled off, falling to the ice. She looked around for something, anything she could fight with. She picked up a branch and started swinging it at the wolves. It made them stop, but only for a moment. She swung the stick again, but a wolf caught it between its teeth and ripped her weapon away from her, tossing it out of her reach.

Betty slowly started backing away from the wolves, but they just followed, licking their chops. She looked for Philippe to help her, but his reins were caught in a tree and he was fighting off wolves of his own. She kept backing up, but she was not looking where she was going. She slipped on the ice, crying out as she landed on her back. She scrambled to get away from the wolves, but her back hit something. She was trapped.

The wolves snarled at her, and Betty couldn’t help the way she chewed at her cheeks. She looked to the sky.

 _I’m so sorry, Polly_ , she prayed, hoping it would somehow reach her sister.

She looked back to the wolves that were ready to pounce on her. Betty closed her eyes, ready to feel the jaws around her throat.

They never came.

Instead she heard a familiar roar and opened her eyes. There stood the _beast_ , tossing one of the wolves into a nearby tree. But there were many of them, and only one of her.  

The wolves rushed at the beast, knocking her down, but she fought back. They clawed and bit at her. Betty could see some of the blood on the snow and on their jaws, but she kept fighting. The beast ripped one of the wolves off her back, and threw it away and roared when another bit her leg. She kicked it away, reaching out to swipe her claws across its face.

The creature tried to stand again, but another wolf jumped on her back from above, biting into her shoulder. She roared and reached up behind her. Betty could see the blood on the wolf’s coat as her claws dug into the wolf’s hide. The beast threw the wolf away. It must have been the leader, because when it didn’t get up the beast roared in the direction of the other wolves.

She watched as they ran away.

Betty’s breath came out shallow, adrenaline still running through her. She looked back at the beast who struggled on her feet. The creature looked at Betty, and her face softened just before Betty watched her collapse into the snow.

Betty stood still for a moment, unsure of what to do. She ran to Philippe, freeing his reins from the tree. She steadied herself, ready to pull herself onto his back and ride away. There was a light through the trees, and she knew it was the way back to her village. But as she stopped, she could see the beast still lying there, struggling in the snow.  

She looked back to where her hands rested on Philippe, over to the light. She couldn’t go. She couldn’t just leave her here. Betty turned again to the beast and slowly walked over to her.

The beast didn’t look so frightening now, Betty thought. She _protected_ her. _Saved_ her. When Betty finally came to where she was lying in the snow, she took the cloak from her shoulders and placed it over the creature. The beast’s brown eyes opened to meet hers, sad and hurt.

"You have to help me,” Betty whispered to her. “You have to stand.”

Her eyes found Betty’s again, unfocused, but she nodded.

Eventually she stood, and Betty helped support her weight as much as she was able as they made their way to Philippe. Philippe, for his part, remained calm as they worked to put the beast on his back. The beast flinched at Betty’s touch to her shoulder, and Betty drew her hand back.

When the beast was finally settled on Philippe's back Betty walked to his front. She petted his nose before taking his reins. She looked back to the beast, finding her slumped over Philippe's neck. The cloak Betty placed on her shoulders had slipped downward, and Betty could see the gashes left by the wolves, and the blood in the beast’s fur.

“Come on, boy,” she told Philippe softly, pulling on his reins and walking beside him, taking the beast home.

* * *

 

A loud roar, louder than any Betty had heard from the beast so far, echoed through the room, so loud Betty swore she could see the walls vibrating.

“That hurts!” The beast yelled at her, and she drew back the wet cloth she’d been using to clean her wounds.

“If you hold still it wouldn’t hurt as much!”

“Well if you hadn’t have run away, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“If you hadn’t frightened me, I wouldn’t have run away!”

“Well you shouldn’t have been in the west wing!”

“And you should learn to control your temper!”

The beast grumbled but went quiet at that, and Betty felt herself sit up straighter. She looked at the beast’s wounds, at the bright red marks contrasting her dark fur. Guilt pooled in her stomach. She sighed and shook her head, standing up from the side of the bed where she’d been sitting.

Standing up over the beast gave her a better view of the creature. She was far more _masculine_ looking than she would have thought for someone who had been a woman before. She had no feminine characteristics whatsoever. Her eyes, however, were the only part that remained, holding years of pain in them.

She lightly traced her fingers around the wounds, careful not to touch them. She watched as the beast’s muscles twitch at the contact of her hand.

“Try and get some rest,” Betty stood, patting down her dress, walking away from the beast and towards where the servants were waiting for her.

“Thank you, dear,” Mrs. Potts said, her eyes flicking between Betty and the beast.

“We are eternally grateful,” Lumière agreed.             

“Why do you help her?” Betty asked, “She’s cursed you somehow, but you did nothing.”

Mrs. Potts sighed and gave her a sad smile.

“Well, you’re right about that, dearie. You see, when her mother died and her father took her and twisted that innocent little girl into something just like him, we did nothing.”

Betty looked back on the beast, and thought of her not like she did upon first arriving at the castle. Betty had been afraid of her, angry with her. Now she looked at the creature on the bed and felt none of that. Betty thought she’d known what it meant to be lonely in her village. But looking at the beast that night, wounded, curled up in bed, Betty saw what true loneliness looked like.

“I want to help you,” she turned back to the servants, “There must be a way to make the curse.”

“Well there is one way,” Betty perked up at that, but Lumière reached his arm over and hit Cogsworth’s chest.

“Never you worry about that,” Mrs. Potts said. “We’ve made our bed, now _we_ must lie in it.”

* * *

 

They’d been riding in a carriage for hours, and this is the third day they’d been searching for the path leading to the castle. Chuck was beginning to think their quest was hopeless, that Betty simply ran away from home and didn’t want Polly to find her.

“It’s got to be this way,” Polly mumbled, but Chuck just sighed and shook his head.

“We were on this path yesterday, Polly. Whatever path you’re looking for isn’t here.”

“But this is exactly where I found the path! I don’t understand! I found it by a tree that had been struck by lightning!”

Reggie laughed from his seat behind them.

“Clearly there are no trees down from lightning here.”

“Wait!” Chuck stopped the carriage as Betty hopped out. But before he too could leave the carriage, Reggie put a hand on his shoulder.

“You really want to marry _into_ this family?” Reggie questioned. Chuck just shrugged Reggie’s hand from his shoulder and walked over to Polly, who stared at a tree.

“This is the tree!” she said, turning back to them for a moment. “I mean; it was down by lightning before. It must have been fixed with some sort of,” a beat, “magic?”

Chuck rubbed his temples.

“Polly,” he said, trying to keep his cool, “there are no such things as _beasts_ , or _magic_. But wolves, and starvation, and frostbite are _very_ real things. So let’s just get back in the carriage and go _home_!”

Polly looked back at him, stunned.

“If you don’t believe me, then why did you agree to come with me?”

“Because I want to marry your _sister_!”

Chuck put a hand over his mouth. He really hadn’t been planning on admitting that.

“Oh boy,” he heard Reggie from behind him, and had half a mind to hit him with the way his anger was boiling.

“Well,” Polly said, standing straighter than she had been before. “You will never marry my sister.”

Chuck lost it.

His fist was flying before he could stop it. Polly fell to the ground, and didn’t get back up.

Chuck shook his fist, turning back to Reggie.

“If Polly won’t give me her blessing, then she’s in my way,” he made his way back to the carriage, but Reggie stepped in front of him.

“Chuck,” he said, “perhaps we should consider a less gruesome alternative?”

“Are you coming?” Chuck asked from the driver’s seat of the carriage, “Or not?”

Rather than be left alone in the woods to be eaten by wolves, Reggie resumed his place in the carriage behind Chuck, and watched Polly’s body fade as they got further and further away, becoming more like a shadow in the darkness.

* * *

 

Veronica blinked her eyes open to the sound of a voice, Betty’s voice, speaking to her. No. Reading to her.

“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,” Betty read.

“And therefore winged cupid is painted blind,” Veronica finished for her.

Betty looked up from her book. Green eyes met her own. Veronica noticed that Betty didn’t look at her, not hatred or fear, as she had before. No, when Betty looked at her she felt like she was a person again.

“You know Shakespeare?”

Veronica let out a little laugh.

“I had an expensive education.”

Betty smiled and ducked her head. They’d been doing this for some time now. Betty had been helping to take care of her while she healed from the wounds made by the wolves. Veronica had been more than able to move about the castle on her own for some time now, but still every morning she found Betty there, reading aloud.

“My favorite is Romeo and Juliet,” Veronica rolled her eyes.

“Why is that not surprising?”

“Excuse me?” Betty sounded almost offended, and the way she was looking at her was almost adorable.

“All the romance and drama,” Veronica gave shudder and shook her head. “There are so much better things to read.”

“Like what?”

Veronica opened the doors to the library, making sure to hold it for Betty as they made their way inside.

“Well, there are some things here you can start with,” she made her way to a shelf, “I have more of Shakespeare’s work here if you’d like to read them.” She looked behind her, but found Betty still just inside the entry doors of the library, staring at the shelves that run from floor to ceiling, her mouth slightly agape.

“Are you alright?” Veronica asked, which drew Betty’s attention to her.

“It’s beautiful,” Betty’s gaze went back to all the books.

Veronica looked around, wondering what it must be like. This was what she’d known all her life. She knew people in the villages had little in the way of books, but the way Betty looked around the library, the excitement in her eyes, made Veronica wish she could fully experience this moment with her.

“Yes,” Veronica said, her eyes not once leaving Betty, “I suppose it is.”

“We don’t even have as many books as you have on one shelf at the library in the village,” Betty’s voice sounded breathless.

“Well, if you like it so much it’s yours.”

Betty looked at her and her face softened, looking at Veronica with something she can’t quite place.

“Thank you.”

Veronica turned to start walking away, but she heard laughter behind her and couldn’t help a glance over her shoulder to see Betty twirl around the library. She chuckles to herself and started walking to a shelf, hoping to find some of her favorite books to recommend to Betty.

“Have you really read every one of these books?”  

“No,” Veronica shook her head as she turned back to Betty, a smirk playing on her lips. “Some of them are in Greek.”

“Are you joking?” Betty breathlessly laughed. “You make jokes now?”

Veronica’s gaze dipped to the floor before she looked back up at Betty.

“Maybe.”

Veronica turned back to the shelf where she’d been looking, the sound of Betty’s continuing laughter still ringing in her ears. She couldn't remember the last time she’d felt so happy, so relaxed. She wondered if it was just from being in the library, or being with Betty, or being in the library _with_ Betty.

One thing she did know, was that Betty made her feel more than she has in years.

* * *

 

Betty found herself enjoying time with the beast. Since the library, Betty would wander into the West Wing looking for book suggestions or just rambling about the latest book she’d read.

One day she had suggested taking a walk around the castle grounds. The beast for a moment looked inclined to disagree, but after a brief silence had agreed.

On that first walk through the grounds in the snow Betty noticed the beast had worn a suit, rather than the cloak she wore when they first interacted. Since then she began wearing coats and trousers like that more often, as if to dress in a way that was more human.

During their walk they stayed close to the castle, walking past the stairs and along a covered path winding around the front of the castle. Betty brought the beast to Philippe, but she remained in her spot, hands clenched at her sides.

“You can pet him if you like,” Betty looked over at the beast, who fidgeted nervously.

The beast reached out a hand to Philippe too quickly, and he startled. Betty walked to Philippe as the beast recoiled back.

“Shh,” she hushed Philippe, and when the horse finally calmed down she looked back to the creature.

She walked to the beast, taking her hand and gently putting it on Philippe's side. The beast looked at her, first nervous, but then that nervousness faded away to excitement as she began to move her hand across Philippe's side, petting him.

Betty left the two of them alone, walking up the stairs to a nearby platform to watch them interact. Philippe huffed out of his nose and shook his head, and the beast did the same. Betty put a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. This was nothing like the creature she’d first met. No, that creature wouldn’t be walking Philippe in front of her engaging him in conversation.

“You look lost in thought, dear,” a voice sounded behind her, and she turned to see Mrs. Potts rolling toward her on her tray.

“It’s just that,” Betty paused,” there’s something _sweet_ , and almost kind, but-” she trailed off.

“But?” Mrs. Potts prompted, and Betty shook her head.

"She was mean, and she was coarse, and unrefined.”

“And now?”

“Now she’s dear. And she’s so unsure. I just,” she paused again, her eyes falling back to the beast below, “I don’t know why I didn’t see it there before.”

“First impressions aren’t always the best impressions, dear,” she nodded, but as she turned to reply Mrs. Potts was already on her way back to the castle.

She looked back down at the beast, who was at Philippe’s side petting his mane, and got an idea. Betty knelt down, gathering snow in her hand and patting it, shaping it into a ball. Before she had time to rethink her decision she threw it, and it hit the beast right in the shoulder.

The beast appeared surprised, looking around before her eyes fell to Betty, who was failing to hide her laughter. She knelt beside Philippe where Betty couldn’t see her, but suddenly she emerged and there was a giant snowball flying toward Betty.

It hit her smack in the face and she fell back onto the platform, wiping the snow from her face and laughing. She heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and when she finally wiped the last of the snow from her face she blinked her eyes open to the concerned face of the beast.

“Are you alright? You’re not hurt are you.”

Betty was touched, and something in her chest swells, but then she got another idea.

“I don’t know,” Betty squinted, moving one of her hands behind her, “it’s my eyes, they’re-”

“Here let me see,” the beast moved in front of her, and she stared into soft, brown eyes. Then she lifted her hand up and tossed snow in the beast’s face.

The beast fell backward into the snow so she was sitting, a little scowl on her face that only looked hilarious with the snow in her fur. Betty couldn’t help the laughter that erupts from her chest, and didn’t even bother to hide it behind her hand. The beast shook the snow from her fur and starts laughing with her.

Betty couldn’t remember the last time she laughed so much.

* * *

 

Some days later Betty found the beast sitting outside beneath a stone gazebo. She stood out a stark contrast to the whites and grays around her with her bright blue coat and brown fur. Betty made her way over, trying to get a glimpse of the book.

“What are you reading?”

The beast immediately closed the book, hiding it beneath her hands.

“Nothing.”

Betty sat beside her, gently pulling her hand away from the top of the book.

“Guinevere and Lancelot,” she noted, looking up at the beast who was decidedly not looking at her.

“Actually,” the beast corrected. “It’s King Arthur and the knights of the round table. Swords, and battles, and things.”

“Still,” Betty smiled to herself. “It’s a romance.”

“Oh alright,” the beast sighed, even giving Betty a little smile, “I suppose it is.”

Betty was about to tease her a little more when a thought came over her. She scoffed and shook her head.

“What is it?” the beast asked.

“I’m absolutely stupid.”

“You most certainly are not.”

Betty smiled at her.

“No really, I am.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because you saved my life and I’ve never even asked for your name,” Betty’s shoulders drooped, “and I never even thanked you for it.”

“My name?” the beast sat straighter, a confused look on her face.

“Is that a problem? Should I not have asked?”

“No! No it’s not a problem it’s just,” the beast looked away from her, and there was something wistful about how her eyes stared into the distance, “no one’s used my name in so long.”

Betty waited until the beast turned to look at her.

“Veronica,” she finally said. “My name is Veronica.”

“Well, _Veronica_ ,” Betty smiled, “thank you. For saving my life.”

“Thank _you_ for not leaving me to be eaten by wolves.”

They both started to laugh, turning when they heard laughter erupt nearby in the castle. Betty could recognize Lumière’s voice, and even heard Cogsworth and Plumette too.

“They know how to have a good time.”

Veronica let out a little laugh.

"Yes, but when I walk into the room laughter dies.”

“Me too.”

Veronica looked back at her, brows furrowed.

“The villagers say that I’m a funny girl. I don’t think they mean it as a compliment.”

“I’m sorry.” A beat of silence passed between them before Veronica spoke again. “Your village sounds terrible.”

Betty laughed at that.

“Almost as lonely as your castle.”

Veronica gave a thoughtful hum in response. Another moment passed, but Betty was watching the gears turn in Veronica’s head.

“What do you say we run away?”

Veronica led her to the library, pulling a white book from the shelf and laying it out. An atlas.

“Another _gift_ from the enchantress,” she sneered, and Betty wanted to reach out and put a hand on her shoulder. “A book that truly allows you to escape.”

Betty walked to the book where a map of the entire world sat on the pages. She’d only ever seen a map of France, a map of Europe once, but never a map of the entire world.

“This is amazing.”

“It was her cruelest trick of all. Just another curse,” Betty turned back to look at her, but Veronica wouldn’t meet her eyes. “The outside world has no place for a creature like me. But it can for you.”

She let Veronica gently take her hand and place it on the atlas, watching gold dust float from the page as she rested her hand at the center of the world.

“Think of the one place you’ve always wanted to see,” Veronica told her, “and it will take you there.”       

“Will you be there?”

Veronica smiled a bit at that.

“If you want me to be there, then I will be there.”

Betty nodded and closed her eyes, letting the book take her to the one place she couldn’t remember, to the one story she needed to hear.

* * *

 

Veronica looked around. There was nothing glamorous about where Betty had taken them. Just a dusty attic.

“Where did you take us?” she asked, watching Betty stare around the room with wide eyes.

“Paris.”

Veronica brightened up at that, looking out the attic window.

“Oh! I love Paris! What would you like to see first? Notre Dame? Champs Èlysèe?” She looked back to Betty, who still hadn’t looked at her. “What? Too risky?”

Still the blonde said nothing, and Veronica stepped away from the window. Betty’s mouth seemed to open and close, like she wanted to say something but the words wouldn’t quite leave her mouth. Veronica waited until she was ready.

“This was,” Betty gulped, “this was where I lived. When I was young. It’s so much smaller than I imagined it.”

She watched as Betty walked to a chair, picking up a toddler’s toy in the shape of a rose. Veronica looked around the attic, studying the drawings and paintings that lined the walls. She stopped when she came across a portrait of a mother holding her baby, a little chubby thing with a tuff of blonde hair, and in that baby’s hand was the same toy Betty held.

“What happened to your mother?” She asked, knowing she probably shouldn’t, knowing how even to this day she couldn’t bring herself to talk about what happened to her own mother.

“I was too young to remember,” Betty looked back at her, still kneeling by the chair, “Father made Polly promise never to tell me.”

Then this place had to have the answers Betty sought. No doubt it was why she brought them there. Veronica walked around the attic, hoping to find anything that might bring Betty the answers she sought. Until her eyes came across a chair. She walked to it, and her suspicions were confirmed.

“Oh, Betty,” the words rushed out of her quiet and breathless as she picked up the fabric on the chair.

“What?” Betty stood from where she kneeled. “What is it?”

“It’s a doctor’s mask.”

“What does that mean?” Betty walked over to her, and when Veronica finally looked at her she could see the tears shining in her eyes. “Veronica, what does that mean.”

“Plague.”

She watched Betty turn back to the bed, likely the same bed where her mother died from her illness. She watched her kneel by the nearby crib, and saw her shoulder shake with silent cries.

“I’m so sorry, Betty,” Veronica told her, not moving from her place at the edge of the room. “And I’m sorry I ever called your sister a thief.”

Betty sniffled and finally looked back at her. She brought her hands up to wipe away the tears on her face.

“Let’s go home.”

And so they did.

* * *

 

Chuck walked into the taverns, which was normally filled with the smiles and appreciation of the townspeople, but currently everyone was looking at him with a frown.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Why don’t you tell them, Chuck?” he heard the voice of a person who should have died in the woods. “Why don’t you tell them how you left me in the woods to die?”

“Why, Polly!” Chuck put on his signature smile, the one he knew all the villagers loved, and the women would swoon for. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! I’ve spent the last several days trying to find you.”

“You tried to kill me!” Polly shouted at him. “You left me to the wolves!”

“Wolves?” Chuck shook his head. “It’s one thing to rave about your delusions, Polly, but it’s another thing to accuse me of attempted murder.”

“Polly?” One of the townspeople asked. “Do you have any proof to your claims?”

“Reginald. He was there. He saw it all.” Everyone in the tavern looked to Reggie, and Chuck laughed.

“Of course!” he said, walking over to Reggie and patted his shoulder. “Don’t take my word for it.” He turned his gaze on his friend. “Reggie. My dearest companion. Did I, your oldest friend and most loyal compatriot, try to kill the father of the only woman I’ve ever loved?”

“Well,” Reggie stumbled, “it’s a complicated question on a number of accounts.” Chuck grabbed the lapels of his jacket. “But no.” A beat. “No he did not.”

“You little-” Polly walked through the tavern to where Chuck stood and went to slap him, but he was faster, stronger. He caught her hand in mid-air before it could make contact with his cheek, twisting her arm.

“Polly,” he frowned, “it pains me to say this, but you’ve become a danger to yourself and others. Maybe _that’s_ why Betty ran away.” Polly looked into his eyes, and they both knew he was lying. He didn’t know what _really_ happened to Betty, but that didn’t matter. Because the townspeople would always believe him over her. “You need help, miss. A place to heal your troubled mind.”

Chuck looked back to the men he’d gathered from the asylum, whom he’d told about Betty with a smug smirk on his face.

“Everything’s going to be fine, Polly. Just fine.”

* * *

 

Betty walked through the West Wing, knowing it would likely be where Veronica was, considering she hadn’t been able to find her anywhere else. They hadn’t spoken about what happened that night in Paris, nor did Betty want to. She was glad Veronica understood that.

They went about their lives as usual, Betty found herself with the most delightful book that she just had to talk about with Veronica. After all, Veronica had said once that it was one of her favorite books.

She opened the door to Veronica’s bedroom, about to call out the other woman’s name, when she noticed the door on the right side of the room was open, the same door she’d noticed that very first night in the West Wing. A bit of light shone through the crack in the open door.

Betty walked to the doorway and almost gasped when she looks inside. The room itself was a closet, with gown after gown hanging from the walls. And standing by some of those gowns was Veronica, a sad look on her face as she ran her fingers over the material of one of the gowns.

She cleared her throat and held the book up to her chest, hoping it will serve as an excuse for the intrusion.

Veronica startled. “Oh! Betty!” A smile graced her lips. “Forgive me, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I’m sorry to disturb you.”

“You could never disturb me.”

Betty smiled at that and walked over to where Veronica stood, admiring the dresses on the walls.

“Are these yours?” She asked, looking up at Veronica, whose eyes were back on the gowns and a sad smile on her lips.

“They were. A long time ago.”

“They’re beautiful.”     

Silence fell between them as Betty continued to admire the dresses. She could practically feel Veronica’s eyes on her.

“You could wear them,” Veronica’s voice sounded behind her and she turned to look. “That is, if you like. I could have some brought to your room.”

“Why don’t you wear them?”

Veronica scoffed and looked down at herself.

“Just look at me,” she sighed, “A creature like me doesn’t deserve to wear gowns as beautiful as those.

Betty opened her mouth to object, but Veronica shrugged and continued.

“And besides, with my figure now I’d never fit in them.”

They both laughed at that.

“I’d love to wear them,” she paused, “but I’d have nothing to wear them to.”

“Well we could, perhaps, have a dance tonight?” Betty looked up at her and raised her eyebrow. “I just- I saw you in the ballroom earlier today and you made everything look so beautiful. I meant to ask you then, but-”

“Veronica,” Betty took her hands, smiling up at her. “I’d love to.”

* * *

 

“I didn’t actually think she’d say yes!” Veronica told Lumière as Plumette puts the finishing touches on her coat and she looked at herself in the mirror. The coat was a deep blue, with silver embroidery and buttons. She hadn’t worn anything like this in years. She hadn’t danced in years. What if she stepped on Betty’s toes?

“But this is the perfect night, master!” Lumière said from her side and she turned to look at him. “There will be dancing. Music. Romantic candlelight! Provided by myself, of course,” he laughed. “And when the moment is right, you confess your love!”           

“But how will I know when the moment is right?”

“You will feel slightly nauseous,” came Cogsworth’s reply. She groaned at him and fidgeted with her coat.

“You care for the girl, don’t you?” Lumière asked.

“More than anything.”

“Then you must tell her.”

Veronica turned at the sound of a knock on the door.

“Forgive me, master,” Plumette floated through the door with a bow. “Your lady, awaits.”

Veronica walked to the grand staircase of the castle, seeing Betty waiting for her on the opposite landing. She looked absolutely beautiful in a gold dress with ruffles along the bottom. It suited her perfectly, bringing out the color in her hair and letting her eyes stand apart like the gems they were.

She walked down the staircase to meet Betty on the platform in the middle.

“You look beautiful,” she said as Betty curtsies, then she moved to take her bow.

“Thank you,” she looked up at Betty, her pale cheeks blushed pink. “Did you wear this one? Before?”

“No.” Veronica smiled. “But it looks far more stunning on you than it ever could on me.”

Betty laughed at that, and Veronica held her arm out to her. Her mother insisted she take dancing lessons, learning how to lead and to follow. She never told her how much she truly loved those lessons.

Veronica let out a shaky breath as Betty took her hand and they walked to the ballroom. She was sure if she were human she would have clammy hands. Her collar felt too tight and the room had gotten hotter. Stepping into the ballroom didn’t help her nerves.

The servants had made the ballroom look absolutely spectacular for the night, knowing exactly what was at risk. The chandeliers were shining and there was not a speck of dust to be seen. It reminded her of parties she held in her youth, only this was better, more intimate.

This was for Betty.

Betty stepped in front of her, taking one of Veronica’s hands in her own and placing it on her waist. Betty must have been able to tell that she was nervous because she looked up and laughed a little.

It had been so long since Veronica genuinely listened to music, much less danced to any, but as the music played and she lead Betty through the first steps she felt her confidence rising. She stood up straighter, held Betty tighter, and proceeded to show her exactly how dancing should be.

Betty smiled at her the entire time.

Once their dance was done they walk onto the balcony. Veronica was breathless. That was the effect Betty has on her.

“I hadn’t danced in years. I’d almost forgotten the feeling,” she looked over at Betty, who was looking over the edge of the balcony. She looked back into the ballroom, knowing that everyone was counting on her. But she wanted to do this properly. This couldn’t be just about her and her feelings.

“It’s foolish, I suppose,” she paused and waited for Betty to turn to her, “for a creature like me to hope that one day I might earn your affection.”

“I don’t know about that.”

Veronica felt something within herself lighten, like a great weight has been lifted from her.

“Really?” she took Betty’s hands in her own, “you think you could be happy here?”

“I do, but-” Betty looked back over the castle grounds.

“What is it?”

Betty smiled.

“My father was the first one to teach me to dance, but when he died Polly taught me. I stepped on her toes a lot.”

Veronica’s face fell. “You must miss her.”

“Very much,” Betty’s voice came out so softly, and Veronica felt guilty, selfish, for forgetting that Betty had a life outside these walls.

“Would you like to see her?”

She lead Betty to her room, to the mirror that rested on the table with the rose.

“This mirror will show you anything,” she handed it to Betty, “anything you wish to see.”

Veronica stepped back as Betty first looked into it, and nodded her head at Betty’s confused look.

“I’d like to see my sister, please,” Betty squinted her eyes as the mirror shined and the image changed. Veronica’s stomach dropped as she saw Betty’s face fall. “Polly! What are they doing to her? She-” Betty looked up at her. “She’s in trouble.”      

Veronica’s heart sank, but she steels herself, knowing that if she didn’t she would break from what was to come. She couldn’t be selfish with Betty. She couldn’t let her live a life as lonely as her own. Without a family.

“Then you,” she paused and gulped, “you must go to her.”

“What did you say?” Betty asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“You must go to her,” Veronica said, stronger this time. “There’s no time to waste.”

She was waiting for Betty to say something, anything, but she didn’t. The blonde only breathed quietly, looking up at Veronica as she tried to push the mirror into her hands. Veronica could see the tears in her eyes.

“No,” she pushed the mirror back toward Betty. “Keep it with you. Then you’ll always have a way to look back on me.”

“Thank you,” Betty’s voice cracked on the words and she turned to leave, but she stopped. Hope fluttered in Veronica’s chest when Betty turned around and walked to her. The touch of Betty’s hand on her cheek made her heart stop. “Thank you for understanding how much she means to me.”

The next time Betty walked away from her, she didn’t look back.

Veronica wasn’t sure how long she stood in the same spot, staring at the same spot where Betty used to be when she heard Cogsworth’s voice.

“Well master, I have had my doubts, but I must say everything is moving like clockwork.” He chuckled at his little joke. “True love really does win the day.”

More entered her room. Lumière, Plumette, Mrs. Potts. The words bubbled out of her before she could stop them.

“I- I let her go.”

They all gasped beside her. All of them except Mrs. Potts, who just looked at her with a sad, knowing smile.

“But master! How could you do that?”

“Because. I love her.”

“Then why are we not human?” Lumière asked.

“Because _Betty_ ,” Cogsworth said her name like a curse, “doesn’t love her.”

That was what broke her. She couldn’t do it.

Veronica felt the tears forming in her eyes. Betty didn’t love her. And she would be doomed to love Betty forever, and alone.

“But she could still come back!” Plumette said, ever the hopeful one.

“No,” Veronica said weakly, and she could feel their eyes on her. “I set her free. I’m sorry I couldn’t do the same for all of you. Now go, our time has almost past,” she bent over the table where the rose still sat, with but one petal left. The tears fell from her eyes without permission. She heard someone make a move to say something, but she didn’t want to hear it. “Please,” she whispered. “Go.”

They left her. Just like Betty did.

As Betty rode away she forced herself not to look back at the castle, because she knew if she did she’d run right back in and say all the things that were stuck in her throat on that balcony, in that room.

And as she rode through the castle’s final gates into the woods, she heard an anguished roar pierce the sky.

* * *

 

Polly struggled against the goons holding her arms, trying to kick at them and free herself, needing to do something. She knew she wasn’t crazy.

The goons eventually got into the padded wagon.  

“Have you ever seen the inside of a madhouse, Polly?” she heard Chuck question, and as she turned to him she saw his smirk, quite possibly the evilest thing she had ever seen. “You won’t last a week. Just give me Betty’s hand in marriage and I’ll set you free.”

Polly wanted to yell at him, scream at him. Her sister had been rejecting his advances for years and still he wouldn’t let go.

“Never,” she spat, she would never let her sister marry a piece of vile filth like him.

Chuck slammed the doors of the wagon shut, leaving her in almost complete darkness were in not for the bits of torchlight streaming through the small windows in the back of the wagon.

“Take her away!” She heard Chuck demand and the wagon began to move as tears fell down her cheeks. She had failed Betty. And her sister would be locked in that dungeon forever with that _beast_.

Polly felt the wagon stop and she grows hopeful.

“Stop!” she heard. Polly knew that voice. She scrambled to the small windows of the wagon, reaching her hands around the bars.

“Betty!”

Betty ran to the wagon, putting a hand overtop of her sister’s. She was so relieved she could cry, but she had to get Polly out of there.

“Let her out,” she told the driver as he walked around the corner of the wagon. “She’s hurt!”

“I can’t do that miss,” he said, “but I promise we’ll take good care of her.”

“My sister isn’t crazy!” She turned to Chuck. “Chuck, tell him!”

“You know how loyal I am to your family, Betty,” his voice was sickly sweet, “but your sister has been making some unbelievable claims. Raving about a beast in a castle.”

“I’ve just come from the castle and there is a beast!”

Chuck shrugged, not caring, as if he didn’t want to save Polly at all.

“You’d say anything to save you sister. You have no proof.”

“You want proof?” Betty held the mirror up. “Show me the beast!”

She pushed the mirror out to them, showing them what they needed to see, what they needed to see to let Polly go. It didn’t quite work as intended.

The villagers screamed and stepped back, frightened. Chuck snatched the mirror from her hand, staring at Veronica in the mirror.

“Look at this beast,” he looked back up to the villagers, his eyes changing from quiet curiosity to anger. “Look at its fangs!” The villagers backed away. “Look at its claws!”

She heard the murmuring of the townspeople amongst themselves and her stomach dropped.

“No,” she tried to assuage them. “Don’t be afraid! She’s kind! And gentle!”

“You think this _thing_ is a she?” Chuck scoffed and pointed to her. “The monster has Betty under its spell. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she even _cared_ for it.”

“She’s not the monster, Chuck. You are.”

Betty watched Chuck change in front of her. His eyes cold and ruthless, not even the fire of the nearby torches could warm them up.

“This thing is a threat to our very existence!” The townspeople cheered, and Betty wondered what she had just done. Chuck turned back to her. “We can’t have her running off to warn the creature! Lock her up too!”

“No!” Betty yelled as hands grabbed her arms and started pushing her toward wagon. She tried to fight, but she wasn’t strong enough to get them off her. Soon enough, Betty was locked in the wagon with Polly. She rushed to the windows to call out, “You won’t get away with this Chuck!”

Chuck just laughed. How foolish could that family get? First Betty didn’t want him, and now they were both locked in a wagon headed for the madhouse and they still thought he wouldn’t get away with it? The townspeople loved them, and they were nothing but foolish, outcast girls.

“Uh, Chuck?” he turned to Reggie’s voice behind him. He expected his most loyal companion’s utmost support, but he saw hesitation in Reggie’s eyes. “Do you really think this-”

Chuck didn’t let him finish.

“Do you want to be next?” Reggie grew quiet. “Now fetch me my horse.”

Chuck mounted his steed, darker than the night sky, and looked down on the townspeople. He saved them. They owed their lives to him. And in times like these they’d do exactly as he said.

"This creature will curse our village if we don’t stop it!” The villagers cheered. “I say we kill the beast!”

* * *

 

Veronica watched the distance from the top of the highest tower in the West Wing. She knew it was foolish to hope Betty would come back, especially so soon. Was it so wrong for her to think that after Betty had saved Polly from whatever the villagers had done, as Veronica knew she could, that Betty would come back to her?

She had a dream, a foolish whimsical dream, that tomorrow she would wake and find Betty in the library.

A foolish hope.

But then she saw light in the distance. A torchlight no doubt. She stood to get a better look. Had Betty come back? Despite all her doubts and misgivings had Betty truly returned to her?

As she waited on top of the tower, many other torchlights joined the one, and Veronica’s heart sank. Her shoulders dropped, and she turned her face toward the stone of the balcony she stood on.

It wasn’t Betty.

The lights grew closer and the sound of hooves grew louder, a chorus of “kill the beast!” filling the air. There was only one way the villagers could have known about her, what she was. Betty had told them.

Betty had sent them.

Veronica sank to the ground. Tears began to form in her eyes, but she blinked them away. She should have expected this. She should have expected nothing less than this. She was a creature, a _beast_. Even more foolish than hoping Betty would come back, was hoping Betty could feel something for her other than hatred and disgust.

Before Betty had arrived, she might have gone down there. Fought them. Scared them away until they were too terrified to come back. Back then she still had hope the curse would be broken, but she knew now that wasn’t to be.

She would either live a _beast_ forever, or one of the villagers would put her out of her misery.

“Excuse me, master,” she didn’t turn her head at the sound of Cogsworth’s voice. “I’m so sorry to disturb you-”

“She’s never coming back,” she growled, giving voice to the anger and sadness clawing at her heart.

“No,” Cogsworth’s voice sank, as if he too had real hope. A large _bang_ sounded from below. “Master. They’re breaking down the doors.”

“It doesn’t matter now. Just let them come.”

* * *

 

Betty pushed her shoulder against the door of the wagon, but it didn’t budge. She looked for something in the windows. Some of bars could be rusting, and she could break them from the wood of the wagon and escape. She couldn’t just sit here and do nothing. Betty saw the guns and crossbow Chuck had on his person. He wanted to _kill_ Veronica. She couldn’t let that happen. Not when she hadn’t-

“I have to warn her,” she slumped against the wall of the wagon. “This is all my fault. Polly what are we going to do?”

“It’s a _her_?” Polly looked at her, surprised. “You want to _warn_ her? Betty, how did you even get away?”

“I didn’t,” Betty smiled and moved to the opposite side of the wagon, sitting by Polly’s side and taking her hand. “She let me go.”

Polly’s eyes widened, then softened. Betty should have known the townspeople would never believe her about Veronica. The only person in town who truly believed her, believed _in_ her, was sitting right beside her.

“Well,” Polly sighed. “I could try to pick the lock outside.” Polly moved to the window, reaching her arms down to the lock. “I would need something long and sharp.” She looked back to Betty, who had already retrieved her hairpin and was holding it out to her. “That’ll do.”

* * *

 

Veronica watched from the height of her tower as more and more villagers started to run away. At the sight of the first villager fleeing the castle she stood from the ground. A small smile graced her lips. Perhaps she had lost hope, but not Lumière. Not Plumette. Not Mrs. Potts. They hadn’t lost hope.

She wished she could share that feeling with them.

Footsteps sounded from behind her, far too heavy and clunky to be Betty’s. She didn’t bother turning her head to look.

“Hello, beast!” She heard a click, the sound of a gun. “Betty sent me.” Her heart sank. So it was true. Betty _had_ sent the villagers. “Were you in love with her?” Were she not so lost in her pain and grief, Veronica might have turned to roar at him. How dare he claim to know anything of what she felt for Betty. “How could you honestly think she’d want a _monster_ like you, when she could have someone like me?”

A noise like thunder sounded from behind her, and she felt a hot pain in her shoulder instantly.

He _shot_ her.

In her pain Veronica lost her footing on the balcony, falling to the top of the tower below. She fought to find proper footing, digging her claws into the tile and stone. She moved around so the tower wall is between her and Chuck. Looking down at her shoulder she saw the blood staining her white shirt, but keeps hanging on.

Chuck put his pistol back in the holster on his belt, instead reaching for his crossbow. He could be much more accurate, perhaps even landing a shot on the bit of the beast’s arm that he could see around the tower. But he reached for his quiver of arrows and found there were none. He turned around.

“Betty?” How did she escape? That idiot from the village! He told that man to stand guard and make sure Betty did _not_ escape.  He watched as she snapped his arrows over her knee.

“Where is she?” How could she possibly be concerned for this monster, this _thing_? She could have him, but she didn’t want him. Well, if he couldn’t have her than neither could the beast.

“When we return to the village you _will_ marry me.” Chuck grabbed his pistol. “And that beast’s head will hang from our wall.”

“Never!” Betty yelled, reaching for his pistol.

They fought for it, each tugging on the gun until it flew from their hands and onto a platform below. Chuck ran for the gun. Betty ran elsewhere.

“I’m coming for you, beast!” Veronica heard from her spot on the tower. The tile beneath her foot crumbled, and she slipped further down the tower, holding on by her claws.

She looked around the tower to see Chuck jump down several platforms, getting a little too closer to her. She used the strength of her legs to leap to a farther tower, then another. He couldn’t shoot her if he couldn’t aim for her.     

Veronica lost her footing when she landed on the second tower, nearly falling into the chasm below them.

“No!” She knew that voice.

“Betty?” Veronica asked herself in a whisper. She had to be sure. She had to see for herself. Veronica forced herself to climb the tower, reaching the top where she could securely stand. There she was.

There was Betty, wearing what looked to be the white garments she wore beneath her yellow dress just earlier that night.

“Betty!” She called, her lips curling up into a smile. “You came back!”

“I tried to stop them!”             

Veronica’s heart skipped a beat. Betty didn’t send the villagers. There was still hope.

“Hang on!” She called. “I’m coming.”

She made her way across towers, leaping through the air until she found enough footing on one tower to leap to the next. She could feel the wind blowing through her fur as she jumped, and she knew that every jump, every tower, brought her closer to Betty.

She miscalculated one of her jumps. She meant to land on a stone pathway running outside the tower, but barely managed to catch the edge of it. Veronica pulled herself up to stand on the walkway. But as she looked around for where to go next, something heavy fell on her head and knocked her to the ground.

Veronica looked up, her vision slightly blurred, but she saw a figure that wasn’t Betty, the figure in a red jacket that must have been the one who _shot_ her. She moved to stand, to try and fight him, but he swung something at her and hit her, knocking her into the nearby wall. As she backed away from the wall, trying to stand up straight, he hit her again in the chest. She fell to her back in the middle of a stone bridge.

He stalked toward her, one of the ornamental stone carvings in his hands like a club. She tried to stand up, but he kicked her across the bridge and onto a circular platform.

Veronica landed on her front. Footsteps still stalked toward her. She tried to push herself up, but she couldn’t find the strength. The shoulder with the gunshot was still bleeding, no doubt a few broken ribs from where he’d hit her before. She slumped to the ground, feeling her energy drained, when the footsteps stopped.

“Chuck!” She heard Betty’s voice. “No!”

A growl sounded deep in her chest. If she didn’t get up then this _Chuck_ could likely hurt Betty. She forced every bit of strength in her body to push herself from the ground. And as Chuck swung the club at her for the final blow she caught it in her hand. She stood to her full height, taller and stronger than Chuck could ever be.

She watched his eyes widen, took pleasure in his fear. Veronica ripped the club from his grasp and tossed it away. Another growl tore from her chest as she wrapped just one of her hands around Chuck’s throat and walked him to the edge of the platform, holding him in the air as he dangled above the dark chasm below.

“Don’t let me go! Please!” Chuck begged. Veronica watched him lift his hands to her arm, trying to peel her hand off his throat but to no avail. “I’ll do anything!” He kicked his legs in the air, and Veronica was sure there were tears in his eyes. “Don’t hurt me beast!”

Veronica felt her grip on his throat go slack, and her face softened. She pulled him in from the ledge, hand still around his throat.

“I am not. A beast.”

She tossed Chuck to the middle of the platform, watching him scramble toward the spiral stairs on the outside of the tower.

“Go,” she growled at him. “Get out.”

She turned to where Betty’s voice came from before, and there she stood. Sweet Betty. Veronica knew her strength, and got down on all fours.

Betty seemed to know what she was doing.

“Don’t!” Betty yells. “It’s too far!”

No distance was too far if it meant getting to Betty.

Veronica ran across the platform on all fours, and used her hind legs to leap. She landed on the balcony in front of Betty and stood to full height in front of her.

Betty wanted to do something, say something, but all she could do is look at Veronica in front of her with awe and with tears springing to her eyes. She opened her mouth to tell her everything and-

A gunshot suddenly rang through the air.

Veronica fell to the ground in front of her. Betty saw Chuck standing on the stone bridge, smoke floating into the air from his gun.

Betty knelt to the ground to help Veronica, who was trying to crawl inside the room in front of her. The castle shook around them, the stone cracking and crumbling.

“Come on!” she took Veronica’s arm, trying to pull her into the room faster. She wasn’t fast enough.

Chuck took another shot, sending Veronica falling into the room. She landed on her back, and Betty turned around to Chuck who was aiming for her again.

Betty ran to stand in front of Veronica, blocking her from Chuck’s view.

“Please!” she begged him to stop, but he just stood on the bridge smug and triumphant, aiming to take another shot. But the castle shook again.

She watched the bridge beneath his feet crack and collapse. Betty saw the fear in his eyes, stone giving out beneath his feet and Chuck falls into the darkness underneath.

Betty ran to Veronica, kneeling beside her. Her hands hovered over the red stains on Veronica’s white shirt, chest heaving slowly as she tried to breathe. Betty slowly met Veronica’s gaze, those brown eyes looking up at her. That was what broke her.

She felt Veronica’s hand rest on top of hers.

“You came back,” the words left Veronica weakly, and Betty watched her eyes struggle to keep focus.

“Of course I came back,” Betty felt the tears in her eyes, but smiled for Veronica’s sake. “I’ll never leave you again.”

“I’m afraid it’s my turn to leave,”

“We’re together now.” Betty squeezed her hand tighter. “We’re together now. Everything’s going to be _fine_.”

“At least I got to see you,” Veronica breathed out with a small smile on her face, “one last time.”

Veronica coughed, and Betty watched as her eyelids fluttered closed. Her breathing stopped suddenly, chest remained still, the hand over Betty’s fell limp.

Behind them, the last petal of the rose fell to the table and wilted. Unknown to Betty, the servants of the castle had gone silent and still. The candles within the castle slowly dimmed until they too died. The castle, for the first time since Betty had arrived, was silent.

“No!” Betty’s tears finally fell, the first landing on Veronica’s shirt. “Please no!” Her fists held onto Veronica’s shirt, tugging at it as she begged. “Come back!” She hunched herself over, resting her head on Veronica’s chest. She couldn’t hear a heartbeat.

“Please!” She called, sitting up from Veronica’s chest. Betty reached a hand to Veronica’s face, brushing the fur away from her cheek. “Please don’t leave me!” She quieted her sobbing and sniffles, but her tears continued to fall.

The words she’d been meaning to say since after their dance, since she stood with Veronica on the balcony, bubbled in her throat. “I love you,” she whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to Veronica’s forehead. More tears fell from her eyes. She’d only found the courage to say how she really felt when Veronica would never be able to hear it.

She moved to put her head back on Veronica’s chest, but stopped when she saw glowing gold dust on Veronica’s shirt. It reminded her of the dust she saw on the atlas.

The dust swirled around Veronica, enveloping her, lifting her from the ground. She saw rose petals among the dust. She squinted, tries to shade her eyes with her hand to keep looking, but the light was too bright, and she forced herself to back up and turn her gaze away.

With one final burst, the light finally faded. Only when she was sure that it was completely gone does Betty turn around, her mouth opening with a gasp.

Betty stood and walked toward the figure on the ground in front of her.

The beastly form Betty knew was gone, and kneeling on the ground in front of her was a girl. A slender, shorter girl with dark raven hair was all that remained. She heard a gasp from the girl in front of her who quickly stood up, wearing the same red stained shirt and trousers Veronica had been wearing before. The girl brought her hand up close to her face, staring at it for a moment before she went completely still.

The girl turned, and the shocked look on her face slowly turned into an enormous smile. She looked down at herself then back up at Betty, the disbelief in her eyes fading to joy.

“Betty,” she trailed off, the sound of her voice warmed something in Betty, melting some of her hesitation.

Betty walked toward the girl. She slowly reached up to brush stray hairs from her cheek. The girl was watching her every move with her mouth slightly agape. Betty doesn’t take her hand away, instead moving it to cup the girl’s cheek, brushing her thumb over the girl’s cheekbone. She leaned into Betty’s touch.

She tilted the girl’s face toward her, looking into beautiful, _familiar_ brown eyes.

Tears formed in her eyes again, and when they fell down her cheeks she felt _Veronica’s_ hands cup her cheeks and brush the tears away with her thumbs.

“I thought you were taller,” Betty laughed, smiling so wide she felt her cheeks would burst. Veronica’s eyes lit up, and Betty’s heart felt so full at the sound of her laughter.

“Are you joking?” Veronica arched her brow. “You make jokes now?”

“Maybe.”

Veronica opened her mouth to say something else, but Betty leaned in, pressing their lips together. Veronica’s hands moved from her face, wrapping her arms around Betty’s neck and pulling her closer.

Betty pulled back just slightly as she feels Veronica’s lips turn upward in a smile. Her dark eyelashes fluttered, and brown eyes stared up at Betty with such love and adoration that Betty couldn’t help but pull her in for another kiss.

And with the power of their love, the castle returned to its original state. No longer dark and foreboding, the gray walls brightening to their original white color. Golden angels and warriors took the place of the wretched creatures and gargoyles that had been before. The servants returned to their human form, reuniting with their families in the village. All was well.

* * *

 

Betty really shouldn’t have been surprised when Veronica told her she wanted a winter wedding.

“After all,” Veronica had said, “we met in the snow. You told me you loved me in the snow.” Veronica’s eyes were alight and her lips curled up in a smile that hadn’t seem to leave her face since becoming human again. “Besides, you’ll love the castle in winter. Real winter, not curse winter.”

“Is there a difference?” Betty had asked with a laugh. Veronica had looked at her with those big brown eyes and how could Betty possibly say no to her?

She’d noticed changes in Veronica since the curse had been lifted. Of course she was still courteous, polite, thoughtful, and everything Betty had adored about her while she was larger and fluffier. But now she had more energy to her, a playfulness that made Betty fall even more in love with her, as impossible Betty thought that to be.

They got married in front of the entire village, an idea Betty was nervous about at first. Veronica wasted little time setting her mind at ease.

“That’s a lot of people,” she’d mumbled, fiddling with her hands in her lap as she sat on _their_ bed in the West Wing. Veronica sat next to her, taking Betty’s hands in her own and running her thumbs along Betty’s knuckles.

“It’s all for status and show,” Veronica smiled at her, and Betty felt herself immediately relax, “Once all the ceremony’s over and done with it will be just the two of us. You and me.”

Betty pressed her forehead to Veronica’s, smiling a bit when she felt a kiss to the tip of her nose. But a thought entered her mind.

“What is it?” Betty had to giggle a bit at that, knowing Veronica had _felt_ her brows furrow.

“Can Polly come live with us?” Betty asked, pulling away slightly. “Here in the castle?”

“Of course she can.”  

“Betty?” Veronica’s voice pulled Betty out of her thoughts, out of her memories. She found that Veronica had been leading them through the dance as others danced around them, although Betty was _supposed_ to be the one leading. She quickly moved into step and her wife, her _wife_ , was smiling at her. “What thoughts are running around your pretty head that have you so distracted? Thoughts of me I hope.”

“Thoughts of _us_ , actually.”

“Hm,” Veronica moved to dance closer to her, so much closer that their bodies were touching with every step. “Even better.”

Betty looked at her, narrowing her eyes playfully.

“How would you feel about growing your hair longer?”

“You miss my old look?” Veronica laughed, putting a pretty pout on her lips. “I thought you’d like me in a gown.”

“I do.”

She remembered designing their wedding gowns. Veronica had insisted she surprise Betty with the design, and of course Betty couldn’t refuse her.

Trying on the gown she’d laughed, Veronica looking at her as she looked herself over in the mirror. All sorts of different colored roses had been sewn into the dress, in bright pinks and whites and reds. The red roses in particular were Betty’s favorite.

“It suits us perfectly; don’t you think?” Veronica had smiled, twirling around in her white gown as Betty watched her from the side. But as Betty watched, Veronica had slowly stopped spinning in front of the mirror, the smile had all but disappeared from her face.

Veronica brought her hand up to the scars on her exposed shoulder, scars that others would be able to see at their wedding, scars that Betty remembered all too well. Sometimes she could still hear the wolves howling outside the castle at night, and she’d pull Veronica closer as the raven-haired girl tensed in her sleep.

Betty brought her face down to kiss each scar exposed by the gown. She felt Veronica relax as she put her arms around her love’s waist.

“I’m not ashamed of them,” Veronica whispered to her.

“I know,” Betty kissed her cheek. “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

“So,” Veronica said, once again pulling Betty from her thoughts as she stopped them in the middle of the room. The other guests still danced and twirled around them. “Is this our happily ever after, then?”

“I think it is.”

“Good,” Veronica smiled. “We deserve one.”

Betty laughed, “Come here,” and pulled Veronica into a kiss.

And so they lived. The villagers were free to visit their family in the castle any time they pleased. The servants were happy. Plumette and Lumière’s wedding day was not three months away. Polly came to live in the castle, continuing to travel and sell her art across all of France. Betty and Veronica lived the rest of their lives in love and adoration for one another.

So goes the tale as old as time, the song as old as rhyme.

_Beauty and the Beast._

           

           

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you guys so so much for reading this! I hope you enjoyed it  
> an enormous thank you to celia, who continually inspired me to write this story and to laura, who helped me edit it so thoroughly it's better than I ever could have made it on my own  
> hmu @ xstardusts on tumblr if you like


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